Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
Lady Gaga vs. Bjork
"I wanna take a ride on your disco stick" vs. "His tooth is warmthless"
Obviously the latter wins for its dead-on obscurity and nonsensical imagery. Since when is "warmthless" an english term? And this ain't the first time she has secretly contributed a "word" to the English language. Let's just say Bjork pulled a Dr. Seuss and let it go. It's her Frindle. But this doesn't ignore the rest of the sentence now. How about this tooth conducting heat? And what about the other teeth? Are they lukewarm? Toasty? Or maybe it's not about the heat, maybe its cold as in aloof or emotionless. But what tooth has an amygdala, or a brain for that matter? Highly impossible to interpret what the hell is going on in that sentence. I say some guy lost circulation to one particular tooth. Now it's beginning to lose heat due to the lack of blood flowing through it. Then the tooth falls out. The end. As for the disco stick, we can just easily dismiss it as a shiny phallic symbol, no? Either that, or some warlock has a gem-studded broom stick and Lady Gaga is extremely tempted to ride this Harry Potter-esque hot rod. But I'm just saying this out of context, of course.
When lyrics don't make sense, just connect to some sexual related topics. It usually works and it's certaintly working for the disco stick. As for the cold bicuspid, haha no. But before we conclude this short battle, let's compare the titles of the songs shall we? LoveGame vs. Mouth's Cradle. Sure, it is easy to see that Gaga failed whilst using Microsoft Word and forgot to use spell check before she released her album. Mouth's Cradle? After reading the title for the 53rd time, I say it's very poetic. In a way, she's trying to connect the comfort of a mouth (from its "warmthness") with comfort as in a child's cradle as the gums cradle all of the teeth in its embrace. But the first 52 times totally got me screwed over. So we all know that Bjork won this.
Obviously the latter wins for its dead-on obscurity and nonsensical imagery. Since when is "warmthless" an english term? And this ain't the first time she has secretly contributed a "word" to the English language. Let's just say Bjork pulled a Dr. Seuss and let it go. It's her Frindle. But this doesn't ignore the rest of the sentence now. How about this tooth conducting heat? And what about the other teeth? Are they lukewarm? Toasty? Or maybe it's not about the heat, maybe its cold as in aloof or emotionless. But what tooth has an amygdala, or a brain for that matter? Highly impossible to interpret what the hell is going on in that sentence. I say some guy lost circulation to one particular tooth. Now it's beginning to lose heat due to the lack of blood flowing through it. Then the tooth falls out. The end. As for the disco stick, we can just easily dismiss it as a shiny phallic symbol, no? Either that, or some warlock has a gem-studded broom stick and Lady Gaga is extremely tempted to ride this Harry Potter-esque hot rod. But I'm just saying this out of context, of course.
When lyrics don't make sense, just connect to some sexual related topics. It usually works and it's certaintly working for the disco stick. As for the cold bicuspid, haha no. But before we conclude this short battle, let's compare the titles of the songs shall we? LoveGame vs. Mouth's Cradle. Sure, it is easy to see that Gaga failed whilst using Microsoft Word and forgot to use spell check before she released her album. Mouth's Cradle? After reading the title for the 53rd time, I say it's very poetic. In a way, she's trying to connect the comfort of a mouth (from its "warmthness") with comfort as in a child's cradle as the gums cradle all of the teeth in its embrace. But the first 52 times totally got me screwed over. So we all know that Bjork won this.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
I know the pieces fit cos I watched them all fall away
Is there a reason for the unexplainable surge of Tool fans on college campuses?
You know what I'm talking about; the tall, highly unattractive and diaphoretic individuals who swagger from class to class with TOOL blazing from across their chests like they're the epitome of God's creations. It's not a bad thing, you know, to fancy Tool and all because everyone has their preferences in music. As a matter of fact, I respect them as one of the few bands who "paint with their music" and I occasionally enjoy lending my ear to alternative rock staples such as Schism and Sober.
As to my knowing, these fans (or at least the ones I've met) are not the most pleasant folks. I usually find out that they enjoy hacking into government networking facilities in their free time OR have the language as rancid as a leech-infested sock seeping in a cesspool OR have their dorm walls strewn with pictures that can pass for bestiality (not Tool, surprisingly). However, this does not ignore the fact that these fans are undeniably apparent in several universities across the country aside from mine. I'll name a few places right now: University of Rochester, University of California at Berkeley, Princeton, and University of Virginia, all of which contain a steady number of Tool aficionados (as I witnessed). This also brings up another question. Why does this population of fans neither expand nor disintegrate? Why do they exist as solely 27.5 % of the student body? What connects them all? This is my reason: these are all physics or engineering majors.
The building I dormed in houses all the dweebs and milquetoasts you can find on campus. The men's floor was practically packed with Tool Fans. Heck, the guy that lived right below me used to blast 10,000 Days non-stop, especially during the Grammys (because apparently that album was nominated for one thing or another. Fortunately, they lost, so that prevented an unannounced 5-hour non-stop Tool marathon that the arsehole was planning to conduct as soon as he recieved the long-anticipated news). I was sure he was a computer engineering major. By the way, he's the hacker who "shared" the news of his special talent to the RAs in the first month of the term--smart move dude.
This other guy who lived five doors from him, was too a Tool Fan. This guy ALWAYS wore his Tool shirt, I mean always. Either that, or he had six Tool shirts with the same print, same tear at the corner of the neckline, and same sweat marks trailing down the middle of his back. He never spoke and at one point, I was certainly convinced he was mute. But that was then, NOW I finally convinced myself that he could not speak. From the looks of this character, he was obviously a socially-inept, computer-mechanized walking brain who functioned in terms of numbers and nothing else.
There was also a girl in our building who occasionally walked around with a Tool shirt. We talked once in a while if we passed each other in the hallway. We just exchanged polite greetings or made remarks regarding the unpleasant weather. She seemed harmless, until I saw her sitting with her friends. If she had the chance, this woman can say a complete, coherent sentence with curses alone. It's quite the talent. And to top it all off, she is also a engineering major, particularly specialising in mechanical engineering. Sheer bloody coincidence? Hellz nah.
So you see, the fans are usually the creeps of campus, the uber-dweebs, the psychopaths of psychopaths. To harness their intellectual energy (and whatever kind of energy these humanoids possess), they take a keen interest in applied sciences. But as a way to spice up their personality, they also take an time and admire the works of this prog rock band. And why? My take on these deadbeats is that the sound of the music electrifies their soul and fosters a form of confidence which never existed before. To shine their inner audacity to the public and show their gratitude to their beloved band, they wear anything covered with the magical four-lettered word. It empowers them with a feeling that just screams "Hey, take a look at me bitches. I'm so badass because I can handle Tool". It's like their double A battery, their daily dose of steroids, their long-deserved share of Scooby Snacks. After all these years of intense underground research on this under-developed marvel, I conclude that, yes, there is a reason to explain the young adulthood phenomenon that effects every 2 out of 20 college students.
You know what I'm talking about; the tall, highly unattractive and diaphoretic individuals who swagger from class to class with TOOL blazing from across their chests like they're the epitome of God's creations. It's not a bad thing, you know, to fancy Tool and all because everyone has their preferences in music. As a matter of fact, I respect them as one of the few bands who "paint with their music" and I occasionally enjoy lending my ear to alternative rock staples such as Schism and Sober.
As to my knowing, these fans (or at least the ones I've met) are not the most pleasant folks. I usually find out that they enjoy hacking into government networking facilities in their free time OR have the language as rancid as a leech-infested sock seeping in a cesspool OR have their dorm walls strewn with pictures that can pass for bestiality (not Tool, surprisingly). However, this does not ignore the fact that these fans are undeniably apparent in several universities across the country aside from mine. I'll name a few places right now: University of Rochester, University of California at Berkeley, Princeton, and University of Virginia, all of which contain a steady number of Tool aficionados (as I witnessed). This also brings up another question. Why does this population of fans neither expand nor disintegrate? Why do they exist as solely 27.5 % of the student body? What connects them all? This is my reason: these are all physics or engineering majors.
The building I dormed in houses all the dweebs and milquetoasts you can find on campus. The men's floor was practically packed with Tool Fans. Heck, the guy that lived right below me used to blast 10,000 Days non-stop, especially during the Grammys (because apparently that album was nominated for one thing or another. Fortunately, they lost, so that prevented an unannounced 5-hour non-stop Tool marathon that the arsehole was planning to conduct as soon as he recieved the long-anticipated news). I was sure he was a computer engineering major. By the way, he's the hacker who "shared" the news of his special talent to the RAs in the first month of the term--smart move dude.
This other guy who lived five doors from him, was too a Tool Fan. This guy ALWAYS wore his Tool shirt, I mean always. Either that, or he had six Tool shirts with the same print, same tear at the corner of the neckline, and same sweat marks trailing down the middle of his back. He never spoke and at one point, I was certainly convinced he was mute. But that was then, NOW I finally convinced myself that he could not speak. From the looks of this character, he was obviously a socially-inept, computer-mechanized walking brain who functioned in terms of numbers and nothing else.
There was also a girl in our building who occasionally walked around with a Tool shirt. We talked once in a while if we passed each other in the hallway. We just exchanged polite greetings or made remarks regarding the unpleasant weather. She seemed harmless, until I saw her sitting with her friends. If she had the chance, this woman can say a complete, coherent sentence with curses alone. It's quite the talent. And to top it all off, she is also a engineering major, particularly specialising in mechanical engineering. Sheer bloody coincidence? Hellz nah.
So you see, the fans are usually the creeps of campus, the uber-dweebs, the psychopaths of psychopaths. To harness their intellectual energy (and whatever kind of energy these humanoids possess), they take a keen interest in applied sciences. But as a way to spice up their personality, they also take an time and admire the works of this prog rock band. And why? My take on these deadbeats is that the sound of the music electrifies their soul and fosters a form of confidence which never existed before. To shine their inner audacity to the public and show their gratitude to their beloved band, they wear anything covered with the magical four-lettered word. It empowers them with a feeling that just screams "Hey, take a look at me bitches. I'm so badass because I can handle Tool". It's like their double A battery, their daily dose of steroids, their long-deserved share of Scooby Snacks. After all these years of intense underground research on this under-developed marvel, I conclude that, yes, there is a reason to explain the young adulthood phenomenon that effects every 2 out of 20 college students.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Just My Luck, No Really
Unfortunately, for the fourth time in my life, I successfully manage myself to get stuck in a religious conversation with the infamous Chinese Bible Study woman (As I lovingly call her, secretly) on campus. This woman never gives up! You would imagine that the second or third time she meets me, she would recognise my face. And once she saw me, she would understand that I'm clearly not interested in taking this class (if there is such a class) mainly because I explained my disinterest for attending such a class in our previous encounters.
The way she comes up to you to is quite nerve-racking, I must admit. She will timidly come from behind and begin to beckon for your attention in a such a low frequency that it cannot even pass for a whisper; it's more like the sound of air leaking from a high-pressured gas valve. Then you look behind because you suspect it's a dragonfly or moth happily passing your path, but NO! IT'S HER!! Strike one. Then, she'll start asking you random, luck-of-the-draw questions regarding your demography. You begin to think "Hey, she's harmless. Why not? She just wants to start a conversation, right?" NO, YOUR WRONG! Strike two. You answer her questions and embellish it a bit because hey, you just met her 8 seconds ago, so what matters if you lie a bit. So that's what I usually do. Everytime I meet her, I make up my religion. One moment I'm Muslim, the next I'm Buddhist, and heck, I even told her I was Zoroastrian. That last one completely confused her since she didn't know what that was. Ha! Ball one! Next, she will ask you if you have ever read the Bible and studied it. To make this moment more exciting, you start telling her all the stuff you read when you had to read the Bible in English class. You start to psychoanalyse the characters and explain the true factors behind their motives in a more unrealistic, outrageous, English teacher, kind of perspective. She gets even more shocked. How does this Zorro-astro-whatever know about the Bible? Ball two. Then the woman will use her magical ways and attempt to convert you to Christianity there and then. Now she's testing your waters. She just pitched the ball right into your shin. It's okay if you're here to enroll people in a Bible Study, but to change their view on life and question their ideals? Nah man, dis ein't cool. 'ave som' respec'. You tell her exactly that, minus the Yardie-ness. Once she finally gets your point, you start walking away because, in my experience, she won't leave your site unless you start moving yourself. HOMERUN!! Unfortunately, she never gets your point, and will continue to use the same pitch the fifth or sixth time you meet her. She's like Willy Loman: a hopeless and seemingly unsuccessful salesperson.
I've told my friends about my adventures with this woman and I asked them whether or not if you have ever met her at least once in your life. All of them answer the same thing: NO. They all look at me like I have a boil on my face which is big enough to sustain life on its own. Maybe this lady is imaginary, maybe she doesn't exist, a phantom of some sort. She might be like one of those ghosts many students get to witness on college campuses as old as the cotton gin or Simon Bolivar. But our campus isn't that old. I mean, McDonald's is older than it. She could be a brain-scavenging zombie, I don't know! Whatever it may be, she is still the Chinese Bible Study woman and she will always remain as so, in my eyes. You must also understand the power of assumptions. Humans will always have assumptions and will make every lasting attempt to prove them correct and at the same time curb their curiousity. It's at moments like these you use flattery and a bit of creativity to remove yourself from complicated situations such as these. But, if you suck at that, well then, my best suggestion I could give to you is to.... RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!!!!!!
X Pfredd
The way she comes up to you to is quite nerve-racking, I must admit. She will timidly come from behind and begin to beckon for your attention in a such a low frequency that it cannot even pass for a whisper; it's more like the sound of air leaking from a high-pressured gas valve. Then you look behind because you suspect it's a dragonfly or moth happily passing your path, but NO! IT'S HER!! Strike one. Then, she'll start asking you random, luck-of-the-draw questions regarding your demography. You begin to think "Hey, she's harmless. Why not? She just wants to start a conversation, right?" NO, YOUR WRONG! Strike two. You answer her questions and embellish it a bit because hey, you just met her 8 seconds ago, so what matters if you lie a bit. So that's what I usually do. Everytime I meet her, I make up my religion. One moment I'm Muslim, the next I'm Buddhist, and heck, I even told her I was Zoroastrian. That last one completely confused her since she didn't know what that was. Ha! Ball one! Next, she will ask you if you have ever read the Bible and studied it. To make this moment more exciting, you start telling her all the stuff you read when you had to read the Bible in English class. You start to psychoanalyse the characters and explain the true factors behind their motives in a more unrealistic, outrageous, English teacher, kind of perspective. She gets even more shocked. How does this Zorro-astro-whatever know about the Bible? Ball two. Then the woman will use her magical ways and attempt to convert you to Christianity there and then. Now she's testing your waters. She just pitched the ball right into your shin. It's okay if you're here to enroll people in a Bible Study, but to change their view on life and question their ideals? Nah man, dis ein't cool. 'ave som' respec'. You tell her exactly that, minus the Yardie-ness. Once she finally gets your point, you start walking away because, in my experience, she won't leave your site unless you start moving yourself. HOMERUN!! Unfortunately, she never gets your point, and will continue to use the same pitch the fifth or sixth time you meet her. She's like Willy Loman: a hopeless and seemingly unsuccessful salesperson.
I've told my friends about my adventures with this woman and I asked them whether or not if you have ever met her at least once in your life. All of them answer the same thing: NO. They all look at me like I have a boil on my face which is big enough to sustain life on its own. Maybe this lady is imaginary, maybe she doesn't exist, a phantom of some sort. She might be like one of those ghosts many students get to witness on college campuses as old as the cotton gin or Simon Bolivar. But our campus isn't that old. I mean, McDonald's is older than it. She could be a brain-scavenging zombie, I don't know! Whatever it may be, she is still the Chinese Bible Study woman and she will always remain as so, in my eyes. You must also understand the power of assumptions. Humans will always have assumptions and will make every lasting attempt to prove them correct and at the same time curb their curiousity. It's at moments like these you use flattery and a bit of creativity to remove yourself from complicated situations such as these. But, if you suck at that, well then, my best suggestion I could give to you is to.... RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!!!!!!
X Pfredd
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Don't Walk Away...In Silence...
This will be like my new facebook account...cept it'll be like even better.
Unlike half of the population on facebook who
post their entire life story as their status,
or put up 372+ pictures of themselves posing in front of a webcam with booze and some cigs (and half a mind),
or change their profile picture as though their undergoing some drastic aging cycles every 2 seconds or so...
or give you cyber hugs and pokes,
or leave 30 second video posts on walls which really have no valuable meaning at all cept that the person was either shite-faced or is in desperate need of some real human interaction,
or tag you in a photo which has everything but yourself in it,
I'll be quietly writing and posting items on this page which actually contain some form of substance (and hopefully, some entertainment) for you people out there...
x Pfredd
Unlike half of the population on facebook who
post their entire life story as their status,
or put up 372+ pictures of themselves posing in front of a webcam with booze and some cigs (and half a mind),
or change their profile picture as though their undergoing some drastic aging cycles every 2 seconds or so...
or give you cyber hugs and pokes,
or leave 30 second video posts on walls which really have no valuable meaning at all cept that the person was either shite-faced or is in desperate need of some real human interaction,
or tag you in a photo which has everything but yourself in it,
I'll be quietly writing and posting items on this page which actually contain some form of substance (and hopefully, some entertainment) for you people out there...
x Pfredd
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
LOL
Lol, i made a blog.
Whilst I sit in the Stony Brook library
Using this shitty keyboard, with the
N,m,a,s,d, and c completely erased from it.
This is a poem, a very lame one with no
Rhyming or meter. Kinda like most poems
Now-a-days. What is it called again?
Free verse?
More like
A pathetic excuse for a long sentence
That was broken up into
Five lines or such,
Kinda like this one.
So yeah, call me a hypocrite or whatever,
I don't mind.
I'm just following a trend.
Riding a wave.
Following the crowd.
Kinda the same reason why
I just made this blog.
LOL
x PFredd
Whilst I sit in the Stony Brook library
Using this shitty keyboard, with the
N,m,a,s,d, and c completely erased from it.
This is a poem, a very lame one with no
Rhyming or meter. Kinda like most poems
Now-a-days. What is it called again?
Free verse?
More like
A pathetic excuse for a long sentence
That was broken up into
Five lines or such,
Kinda like this one.
So yeah, call me a hypocrite or whatever,
I don't mind.
I'm just following a trend.
Riding a wave.
Following the crowd.
Kinda the same reason why
I just made this blog.
LOL
x PFredd
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
